


Hey Now, Let Me Turn You On

by musiclily88



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Crack, Did you know it's possible to have a lamp fetish, Established Relationship, Fetish, Kink Negotiation, Kink Shaming, M/M, Mild Kink, and for that I am so sorry, i was dared to do it, lamp fetish, shut the fuck up guys, this is so dumb, this is the stupidest crackiest thing I have ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 11:39:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1743359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclily88/pseuds/musiclily88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes Louis awhile to cotton on, but when the penny drops, it drops hard. Liam has been acting weird for a week or so, skittish and less verbal than normal, but Louis initially chocked it up to the stress of the tour. </p><p>Warning: THIS IS PURE CRACK FIC.</p><p>Pretend I included that gif of a person dressed up as the lamp from Pixar, hopping around on a back porch or something</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey Now, Let Me Turn You On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweet_disposition](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweet_disposition/gifts).



> So. I was drunkenly joking with my roommate that porn exists for EVERYTHING and EVERY fetish and someone, somewhere along the line, mentioned that LAMP FETISHES CLEARLY CANNOT EXIST. They probably did and now they definitely do.
> 
> I am so sorry.  
> WHY DID I DO THIS

_Hey Now, Let Me Turn You On_

 

It takes Louis awhile to cotton on, but when the penny drops, it drops hard. Liam has been acting weird for a week or so, skittish and less verbal than normal, but Louis initially chocked it up to the stress of the tour. Stadium tours tend to wear, after all. When pressed, Liam merely said his head was hurting him--which, fair, he bumped it on a lamp during a very vigorous marathon fuck session, one of their best by far.

“Maybe you should, I dunno, see a doctor? I’m sure Paul can find someone.”

“No, I’m fine!” Liam rushes, clearly _not_ fine.

And there was weirdness during band-bonding time. Niall chose Toy Story, usually a crowd favourite, but Liam emitted a loud squawk and jammed a pillow into his lap before the credits even rolled.

“The Pixar logo doing you in, mate?” Zayn asked, nudging him.

“No, I’m fine!”

Louis confronted him again, later that night, away from the other lads, shut up in their hotel room for the night. “You’re acting weird.”

“M’not,” Liam replied with a pout.

“Tell me,” Louis wheedled in sing-song, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Nothing to tell.”

 

Now--well, now, at this exact moment, things are a bit more illuminated. 

And shit, he’s really going to have to watch it with the bloody puns if he want to keep dating Liam, which--maybe he needs to reconsider. Wait, no.

 

“I’m gonna go sit in the bathroom for five minutes while you--whatever that is, and then I’m gonna need an explanation besides _sorry, Lou, you interrupted me fucking a lamp.”_

“I’m not fucking a lamp!”

“Please tell me it’s not fucking _you,”_ I--you know what, gimme a minute. And for the love of god tell me that’s unplugged!” Louis yells over his shoulder as he vacates the room.

Liam stumbles along behind him, not letting him get any space or, fuck, air. He needs a time machine, maybe, or brain bleach or that Men In Black flashy memory-erasing thing. And Liam still has not put on pants, so Louis also needs to take a second to admire Liam’s physique and giant, rock-hard cock. 

_No._ “If you wanted some variety in the bedroom, you could’ve just chatted with the lads, I’m sure one of them would be up for it.”

“It’s not--that’s not it. It’s--ever since I hit my head--”

_“How hard did you hit your head?”_

“Really hard. There’s still a bump.” Liam mindlessly pokes at his head, pouting out his lower lip.

“So the reason I walked in to find you jerking it with a bedside lamp balanced on your chest is, what? Which, kudos, by the way, since your cock is kind of a two-fister. Oh my god, you are still so naked.” Louis throws his hands in the air, exasperated.

“This is why I didn’t tell anyone, because it’s _weird_ and I want it to go _away.”_

“Well what if it doesn’t? Will I need to wear a lampshade every time we fuck? Hum _baby you light up my world like nobody else_ and try to figure out how to look like a streetlamp to keep the passion alive?”

“You’re being a dick about this.”

“You should’ve told me!” Louis insists. “I don’t handle surprises well!”

“Hey, _I’m_ the one with a head injury and a weird boner, don’t try to make this about you!”

“Go to fucking hospital, don’t wrap an extension cord around your cock!”

Liam clenches his jaw, towering above Louis and glowering. “Go stay with one of the lads, if you’re going to be like this.”

_“Fine.”_

**

The rest of the band takes it better, probably because Liam doesn’t mention the sexual aspect, only that he has a new and exciting hobby. Harry characteristically offers to go antiquing with him for old-fashioned, fancy desk lamps. Niall purchases him a keychain flashlight and shoots him an amused, knowing glance. Zayn nods slowly, taking the info in with a grave kind of dignity, and never mentions it again.

 

“Okay, so you’re a lamp enthusiast,” Louis muses later that week, fresh from the shower and ready to talk.

“Enthusiast, really? Not a freak show, anymore, then.”

“I don’t handle things well, of this I am aware. Sorry. My bad.”

“Your bad?”

“My bad. Forgive me?”

Liam pauses, inhaling deeply as he considers this request. “Yes,” he eventually acquiesces. “Spose so.”

“Do you want to fuck hanging from a chandelier?”

“Kind of.” He shrugs.

“I was joking.”

“So was I!”

“Oh.” Louis pauses, scrunching his face gently. “Am I allowed to make terrible puns or is only Harry allowed to do that?”

“What?”

“Like dimmer switches and turning on and anything to do with a shade, you know?”

“Don’t do that,” Liam snaps, tensing his jaw.

“Okay, well, I’m not like, letting you tie me up with fairy lights.”

Liam nods. “Noted.”

“Nor am I gonna get a cone of shame that looks like a lampshade.”

“Okay.”

“So that’s--are you, like. Is that it then? Can you, is--what’s okay with you, like?”

“Me?”

“Well I can’t _lose_ you, can I? Even if you don’t want me the way I am, we still need--to be okay, or whatever,” Louis blusters, decidedly uncomfortable.

“I want you the way you are, donut. I’m the one with the screwy head.”

“But I--didn’t mean that, did I, I was just freaking, wasn’t I, that I’d be obsolete.”

“Obsolete?”

“Yeah. We all know I’m twelve times more self-conscious than all you, innit, and like--”

“For no good reason, Lou, you know that, we need you, I need--” He pauses.

“What?”

“All of you, obviously.”

“Why did you tell me, though?”

“Remember how you responded?”

“Vaguely,” Louis says guiltily.

“That’s why.’

“Fine.” Louis furrows his brow, in silence for a moment. “Well, we can work something out, yeah?”

“What? You for real?”

“Honestly. Now, are you going to come quietly or must I use force?”

“I think we both know I rarely _come_ quietly.”

**

And, it works for a bit, Louis thinks. He feels awkward and stilted and ridiculous, but that’s a bit par for him lately, his life under a microscope every second of the day and night. Considering he once caught a pap digging through his rubbish bin, he supposes he should be used to _awkward._

When Liam nearly faceplants during a show, staring deeply and soulfully into a spotlight, Louis _doesn’t even laugh._ Which is difficult but ultimately manageable.

What is less manageable is pretending he doesn’t want to laugh during sex. And of course he voices this aloud to Liam, lacking what some might call a brain-to-voicebox filter. Worse, he mentions it while they’re in bed together.

“When are you not laughing? You laugh constantly, _especially when we fuck.”_

“You have a ridiculous O-face, that’s not my fault!”

“Liar, you’re just stupid and ticklish,” Liam replies, crossing his arms with a moody expression.

“I’m stupid? I’m stupid? Me? Not you, the smelly pasta boy?”

_“You promised never to bring that up.”_

“I lied, obviously.”

“I could absolutely smother you right now. Your life is in my hands.”

“How’s the head?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“No, I just meant, like, how much physical exertion are we talking here, before you claim a headache and mope like a frigid little bitch?”

“Why do I put up with you?” Liam mutters, shaking his head mournfully.

“None of the others would have you.”

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetcheeks.”

And that’s fine, that’s well and good, their bantering camaraderie needn’t suffer just because they no longer understand quite what to do to one another, nor quite how to do it. That’s a departure from typical, and an uncomfortable one at that. And sometimes relationships go through uncomfortable times, even if they mostly don’t go through periods of time wherein one partner wants to fuck a lightbulb.

Louis tries to joke about it gracefully, insisting they all watch A Christmas Story even though it’s currently April, all so he can prod Liam’s side every time the _sexy leg lamp_ is on screen.

In unrelated news, Liam takes to tackling Louis onstage and periodically kicking him in the shins. So it’s not a perfect set-up.

With five days’ worth of bruises littering his legs, Louis calms down and decides to act like a grownup. He hunts down a few things and a few people who know a few things about how not to electrocute anyone (not that such information wouldn’t come in handy somewhere down the line) and sets down to remedy a few things.

And naturally the moment he sits down to collect his breath is the second that Liam walks in the door of their shared hotel room, but Louis supposes he can handle that. After all, he’s been bluffing his way through stupider and more ridiculous situations for years.

“Oh,” he begins, perhaps not his best line.

“Um. Yes?” Liam responds, taking in the scene around him. “This--well, it’s.”

“A spectacle?”

“Kind of.”

Louis nods, taking in the scene around him as though through new eyes. Sure, he set the lamps in the room down low and covered them with fairy lights. And sure, he tacked up LEDs all around the bed and the stupid-luxurious couches. He’s not _heartless._

And maybe he has a tiny, little, small-ish diadem of glow-lights set around his temple like a crown. _Maybe._

And perhaps Liam rushes towards him like a fool, grinning with it, like things are good and have never been better.

**

“How’s it?” Harry asks in the afternoon two days later, dropping into Louis’ lap as they’re piled up in the back of the tourbus.

“Good,” Louis says with an easy grin, leaning into the warmth Harry always provides, even with his gangly legs and knock-jointed arms.

“Even Li’s head?”

Louis is silent at this, swiveling bodily sideways to make eye contact with Liam.

“It’s getting there.” He shoots Louis a darkening glance but adds nothing. Louis merely bumps Harry off his lap and leaps onto the floor, creating a dog-pile of boybanders he’s sure would rival anything a fan could ever dream up, even in her horniest daydreams.

**

Days later, Louis flicks on the light as he enters his hotel room, sure that Liam is already there. Sure enough, he hears the shower pounding a consistent rhythm from the bathroom, but he bites his lip regardless. He strips off and pads into the bathroom quietly, holding his breath. Liam seems unsurprised when he slips into the shower, humming slightly as Louis prods him in the bicep with one finger.

Liam rolls his eyes, to Louis’ amusement, but says nothing.

“How’s it?”

“Fine.”

“The head?”

“Good.”

“The bump?”

“Growing fangs.”

“That sounds rather darling.”

“Yeah, next you know we can chop it and sell it to the highest bidder, whoever wants to adopt it the most.”

Louis arched a brow. “Can’t do that if it’s getting smaller, can you though?”

“Meaning.”

“I can barely see it, is the thing. Right now.”

“It’s, yeah, it’s shrinking.”

“And?”

“And what.”

“The rest of it.”

Liam’s face clouds and he clambers out of the shower without another word. He wraps a towel around his waist before Louis can form a thought, not to mention a coherent action, and then he’s gone.

 

Louis finds him an hour later, after stumbling into trackies and a ratty t-shirt, after running into the corridor like a fool, only to find no one there. Liam is in retreat, tucked into the second of their tour buses, smoking a blunt and looking out the window with cloudy eyes.

“I love you,” Louis says with an uncomfortable shrug, ducking his chin down.

“I know you do.”

“Then why this?” Louis waves wildly at the display before him, taking in Liam’s form with its dowdy sweats and old hoodie.

“Wanted to be comfortable.”

“Oh.”

“I have news, okay.”

“Oh.”

“Head’s better.”

“Christ, Li,” Louis says on an exhale, voice squeaky and high-pitched. “That’s, fuck, that’s great! Why the morose thing, you’re not concussed, innit, you’re just fine!”

“Right.”

“So, things are good, then,” Louis adds, brows furrowing.

“And you can, are you sure you can…”

“What?”

“Revert so easy.”

Louis sighs. “Firstly, you’re an idiot. Secondly, I’ll do anything for you, you _utter arsehole._ As if I haven’t already made that clear.”

Liam groans loudly, throwing himself off the sectional. “I don’t understand what you want!”

“Fuck, mate, you! I want you, whatever incarnation it might be, all right, even if you’re doing a topless merman thing or a magic carpet ride deal. You could jump off of moving trains and I’ll still find it arousing! Stupid and dangerous, of course, but, fuck. I just want _you.”_

“Oh.”

“Too right. Now come here, you dim bulb.”

_“I said no puns!”_

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: musiclily


End file.
